


Conspiracy

by PrairieDawn



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Aftermath, F/M, Pike Whump, Pike and Number One are just friends, Secrets, Sex Pollen, Sex Pollen is really not fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn
Summary: Number One deals with the aftermath of an encounter with Sex Pollen.
Relationships: Number One/Christopher Pike
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Conspiracy

**Author's Note:**

> And today's prompt was Number One, Sex Pollen, and Knowledge.
> 
> Sex pollen is an icky, squicky concept. I decided to make that abundantly clear. (A note, there is no indication either character forced themself on the other--but neither was capable of consent.)

Una awoke to chill on one side, warmth on the other, and so sick she couldn’t identify where she was for a good five minutes. She lay very, very still, kept her eyes closed, and cataloged her symptoms. Her head pounded, her throat was dry and swollen, her face felt tight, throbbing, and itching. She hazarded moving and discovered first a sudden nausea brought on by motion, then the ticklish brush of some kind of grassy groundcover against her naked leg.

She realized at that moment that the warmth behind her was another naked body pressed against her own, and the chill stickiness between her legs suggested that the person, the man, she could feel clearly now from the body parts pressed against her backside, had taken advantage of her while she was unconscious. She would kill him, who or whatever he was.

She rolled over, knocking him on his back, positioned her knee to drive it into his solar plexus, and collapsed on top of him, too dizzy and nauseous to do more than curl back into a fetal position between his splayed legs.

He made a pained little whimpering sound. Good. She hoped he was uncomfortable, whoever he was. She swallowed and forced herself to look up at his face. Captain Pike? He would never! Her memory supplied her with a brief flash of heat, clinging, and need, but she couldn’t chase the impression to its source.

“Captain! Number One!” Running steps reached them. Between the physical misery and the absolute mortification of being discovered by their young Vulcan science officer, she wondered whether it would be possible to will her own demise. “Dr. Boyce, I’ve found them!”

Something about the Vulcan’s voice sounded strange. She managed to focus her eyes on him. He was wearing a full biofilter face mask. Dr. Boyce knelt beside her. “Let’s get the two of you untangled. That’s a good girl,” he said, while gently lifting her off the captain to settle her on her back beside him. Spock lay his uniform jacket over her, which gave her a sliver of modesty and warmth. Her eyes closed again. It was too hard to force the lids open in her swollen face.

“Shall we beam them straight to Sickbay, Doctor?” she heard.

“I don’t like the look of either of their vitals, but I want to get him covered first.” There was a sound of sliding fabric. “Four to beam directly to Sickbay,” Boyce said, and the beam caught them.

Transport in the middle of an allergic reaction was a new flavor of unpleasant. Fortunately, it was followed in moments by the hiss and ache of a hypospray and a descent into cushioning dark.

*

Her next awakening was physically more comfortable. She was clean and clothed in patient scrubs, tired and too weak to make a tight fist, but she no longer felt like she was dying. “Dr. Boyce?” she said. Her voice came out thin and scratchy.  
“You’re awake!” Boyce bustled over to her side.

“What the hell happened?” she said. “Where’s the Captain?”

Boyce frowned. “He’ll be out for at least another day. Can you remember anything about what happened to you?”

Reluctantly, she nodded. Memory had returned to her while she lay in the biobed, first as lurid dreams, then in fragments that she could piece together. “We walked into the little valley where you found us, following some interesting geological readings. There were flowers blooming--very strong smelling flowers. I remember feeling hot first, commenting on it to the Captain. It was as though we were drugged, neither of us could think of anything but--well. I’m sure you found the evidence.”

Boyce nodded. “Spock took a sample of the substance. You both lost consciousness at some point. The Captain took a bad hit. Subdural hematoma. I suspect he’ll remember nothing.”

“Do we have to tell him?” Una said.

“Can you live with the knowledge without it changing the way you treat him? This may seem awkward for you, but if you treat him differently without him knowing why, it will be a lot more awkward for him.”

Una shook her head. “I think he’s better off not knowing. You know how he feels about--about even the possibility that he might mistreat a woman. If he knows what we apparently did, he’ll blame himself.”

“That he will. All right, I’ll leave out that part of it.”

Another unpleasant thought occurred to her. “Lieutenant Spock knows.”

“Spock is with the captain right now. He had us very worried for a while. Between the head injury and the toxins in that pollen, well, I wasn’t sure he was going to recover until a couple of hours ago.”

Una raised herself onto her elbows. “Can I see him?”

“Try sitting up and we’ll see.”

She sat, slowly and carefully, knowing that if she fainted the doctor wouldn’t let her out of bed. Boyce watched her critically. Sitting seemed to be going well. “Okay?”

“Now stand up and see how you feel.” She slid off the biobed. Boyce kept a hand at her elbow. “Just a few steps,” he encouraged. She walked beside him, feeling a little steadier with each step. The captain lay on his own biobed, Spock sitting on the edge of his seat beside him, his back straight and his hands steepled in front of him.

“Number One,” he said, his voice betraying a little surprise.

“Lieutenant.” She took a steadying breath. “I wanted to ask you to,” she stopped herself. Not lie. Vulcans, according to Spock, didn’t lie. “Omit certain details concerning the condition in which the Captain and I were found when you tell him what happened.”

Spock dipped his head. “I see no reason to divulge that information.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” She needed to sit down. Immediately. The chair on the opposite side of the bed was free, so she half sat, half fell into it, resting her head in her hands. “Bet nothing like this ever happens to Vulcans,” she groused.

He tilted his head, looked for a moment like he might be about to say something, then snapped his mouth closed. After a moment, he muttered, “I will say only that your secret is safe with me.”


End file.
